


there exists tomorrow after today

by verdarach



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Femslash, Urban Fantasy, Vague Worldbuilding, disaster aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdarach/pseuds/verdarach
Summary: The apocalypse begins--and ends--three days after Grace breaks the Second Pillar of the Divine. She would apologize, but, well, there wasn't time for that when the first cracks started appearing in the sky. There will be a tribunal later, probably, if the Golden Circle remains in the habit of keeping their promises. She can make her excuses then.For now, she has more important things to worry about. More important people to be with.





	there exists tomorrow after today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).



> My thoughts as I was writing: AAAAAAAH  
> I apologize in advance

The apocalypse begins--and ends--three days after Grace breaks the Second Pillar of the Divine. She would apologize, but, well, there wasn't time for that when the first cracks started appearing in the sky. There will be a tribunal later, probably, if the Golden Circle remains in the habit of keeping their promises. She can make her excuses then.

For now, she has more important things to worry about. More important people to be with.

The infirmary door creaks open. Grace tilts her head only enough to make out the figure who approaches the periphery of her vision. A heavy, thickset silhouette accompanied by an irregular gait--thud then clank, thud then clank.

She relaxes a fraction; it's just Caleb. And judging from the sound of crinkling plastic that accompanies the footsteps, as well as the tantalizing smell of beef, he has lunch.

When she turns to fully face him, her gaze idly drifts over to the clock. Dinner, she amends. She's been here longer than she thought; ever since the Pillar broke, she feels removed from time. Like its passage was something that happened to other people.

If Caleb has any opinions about how Grace's hand is still wrapped around Marja's, then he doesn't say anything. All he does is haul himself into a spare chair, then rummage through his plastic bag for what turns out to be a styrofoam box of _pajeon_. He pops a pair of wooden chopsticks out of its plastic wrap and holds them out to her.

"You have to eat sometime," he says, when she doesn't take them.

"Says who," Grace mutters.

She's been sitting here for eight hours, was asleep for the twelve preceding that, and her last meal was probably Thursday's brunch. She isn't hungry; she doesn't think she needs to eat anymore. She has a hunch that the same is true for breathing, but her lungs continue operating out of sheer force of habit, and she isn't curious enough to try and stop.

"Says me," Caleb says. He breaks apart the chopsticks himself and presses them into her free hand. In most other circumstances, Grace would find the way his gigantic fingers fiddle with the tiny packets of soy sauce pretty funny. She's not up for feeling much of anything, as of late.

He continues, "I went all the way to Sweet Oppa to get all this. Eat. If you don't want _pajeon_ , I got _Jeonju_ and _sanchae-bibimbap_ , you can pick which one you want. And there's cake, for after. Just eat something, Grace. I'll pull rank as your mentor if I have to."

"You didn't even want to teach me," she mumbles, "You don't get to play the mentor card now."

But all of a sudden it's as if everything, including arguing, is too exhausting to keep up with. She likes beef better but knows that Caleb prefers _sanchae._ She's also not above pettiness. "Give me the _sanchae-bibimbap_."

She has to unlace her fingers from Marja's to eat. It's hard, to give that up the grounding sensation that physical contact with the other girl gives her. She's rubbing at her palm trying to recreate the pressure, the solidity, but it's not working. Guess there was a reason after all that people shouldn't be in the presence of the Pillars for too long. A lesson learned too late for Grace, but oh well. How did that saying go? Something about crying and spoilt milk? Spilt milk? Whatever.

Caleb's pulled up part of his mask to eat but thankfully it's just for that. He doesn't speak until they polish off their respective meals, as well as most of the _pajeon_ , and Caleb graciously finishes what remains of Grace's slice of matcha cake when she starts feeling so nauseous that she thinks she might throw up. Halfway through their sad little dinner, Caleb left and brought back two little paper cups of water from the dispenser in the hospital corridor, and Grace is thankful for that, at least.

She drinks. He brushes away the crumbs and tosses the trash into the bin.

Then, he pulls his mask back down, adjusting it a bit as always on account of the stubble, and gets right to business.

"Most of the city's been stabilized," Caleb says. "The Circle's dealt with the worst of the ruptures and they've set up patrols to catch any late bloomers. Your neighborhood's mostly fine, the streets were torn up a bit but nothing major. Everyone evacuated safely."

Relief jitters through her body. She doesn't even realize that she had tensed.

Caleb's gaze moves to Marja, lying still in the hospital bed. Grace's own follows. The beep of monitors and other devices hooked up to the other mage provide no response, no answers.

"I'm going to need to know what happened up there," Caleb says at last, looking back at Grace. "What happened to the Pillar. And what happened to the two of you."

The thought of having to recount what happened sends a lance of pain through her head. And then one through her chest, duller and heavier. She shudders, and allows herself the comfort of clinging to Marja's hand. The chill of her magic is grounding.

She feels rather than sees Caleb relent. The sensation of being watched like a virus under a microscope fades, and his chair creaks against the sterile tiles when Caleb drags it closer to her. The drag of his prosthetic foot along the ground adds to the awful screeching noise. And then, after another moment of silence, he places his hand on her shoulder.

"Later, then. We can deal with that later."

His touch is papery. Or, rather, she feels like paper under his hand: thin, easily crumpled, translucent. It's still better than nothing.

Caleb's hand withdraws, and Grace clamps down on the shiver that threatens to wash through her entire body in response.

"Grace?" Caleb's voice is cotton-soft. "Grace, you're crying."

It takes her another few seconds after that to realize that she is. Her heart is wringing the tears out of her body. Grace scrubs at the tear tracks but it doesn't do much when she can't make herself stop crying.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers, almost too quietly for Caleb to hear. She doesn't know if she wants him to. All she knows is that she needs to get the words out. "I fucked up."

"You made a mistake, that almost anyone in your situation would have made," Caleb counters.

"Marja almost died."

"She's alive, and recovering."

"She almost died," says Grace, "for me."

Caleb has no immediate response.

Grace lets her gaze drop to where her fingers are intertwined with Marja's. It's easier than trying to look Caleb in the eye as she speaks. Easier than trying to look at Marja's pale, bloodless face. "I thought that we were- It's been years since we saw each other. She changed. I changed. I don't know _why_."

Seconds pass in agony. Her thoughts run themselves into Gordian knots. Marja, the Pillar, the way the light shone through Marja's body like an X-ray, exposing veins and bone and glimmering streaks of raw magic. It must have been agony.

Marja pressed their foreheads together and grabbed her hands. And as the sky shattered into lightning and glass around them, and as she shoved her frigid sparking magic through the cracks in the Pillar, Grace thought she had heard Marja whisper, "I love you."

A quick, confident knock at the door cuts through the air. Without even waiting for a response, the door begins to open. "Magus Yoon. I know you are inside."

Caleb stiffens, because it's only ever business if someone is calling him by his surname and title. If possible, he tenses even further when he locks eyes with whoever it is at the door. Grace furiously pulls up the bottom of her t-shirt to rub her eyes dry, then shoves her clothing back into place and turns to look.

Imperator Diercx stands in the doorway, wearing the typical yellow sash that marks them as an officer of the Golden Circle. Grace feels the beginning of dread curl in her stomach.

"And your apprentice as well," says Diercx, sharp gray eyes narrowed and focused on Grace. "How fortunate."

They reach a hand to the side, turning their wrist and curling the fingers in a motion that Grace recognizes as a retrieval spell. A dim golden light pulses once, twice, and then an unfurled scroll rests neatly in their palm.

"Hwang Sae-byeok," Diercx says. The dread in her gut turns to an insistent tug, as with all True-Naming calls, and Grace winces as the Imperator continues reciting, "you are hereby summoned to a Grand Tribunal regarding the matter of the destruction of the Second Pillar of the Divine. The Grand Tribunal is to begin immediately."

Caleb grits his teeth and stands with Grace right as the last word leaves Diercx's mouth. "It's been a day," he says. "You're not going to go and sentence Grace _one day_ after she saved the world."

"A Grand Tribunal is not for determining punishment," says Diercx. "The world almost ended because Hwang destroyed the Pillar. We need to find out what happened."

"She fixed the Pillar."

Caleb's teeth are bared. He looks like he is ready to leap at Diercx. She can't have him punished again for striking another Imperator, especially not for her sake.

"It's okay," says Grace, stepping around him. "I'll cooperate. I'll attend the Tribunal. Look after Marja, Caleb? She doesn't like to wake up alone."

Diercx's intense stare softens into something resembling respect, for the slightest moment. She could mistake it for an illusion for how brief it is. "Then let us depart, Magus Hwang."

They look back to Caleb. "Fear not, Magus. Look after my apprentice, and I shall do the same for yours." Without another word, they leave the room.

As soon as Diercx is gone, Caleb hugs her, fiercely. Grace clutches him back, lets herself sink into the warmth of his embrace. She misses it already when he steps back.

"Everything will be okay," he promises. "You'll be okay. If Marja wakes up, I'll let you know immediately."

Grace isn't so sure everything will be fine. But what else is there to do?

"Thanks, Caleb," she says. One last glance for Marja, still sleeping.

And then, she leaves.


End file.
